


Hats & Horns

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Series: The Alpha Series [51]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drusilla throws a New Years Eve Party and invites everyone, much to Spike's disgust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hats & Horns

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on January 7, 2000, an answer to a challenge by Dare that I don't remember the aspects of. The whole gang is there, various canon pairings plus Angel/Cordelia. Set in Season 4 before Tara. I dedicated to Dare and the gals in chat. I once chatted. Wow. That was a long time ago.

Spike stared at Drusilla and shook his head in a very determined fashion. She smiled and patted his cheek, then continued to set out the New Year's party hats, horns and noisemakers. Scattered around the main room of the mansion were balloons and bowls of confetti.

"We are not having a New Year's Party."

"Yes we are. I sent out invitations and everything." As she swept past him, she handed him one. Spike stared blankly at it a moment, then shook his head again.

"This is a birthday invitation."

"No one seemed to make Star Wars New Years cards. I know it's one of your favorite movies," she cooed, trying to placate him.

Spike gazed in disgust at the prancing ponces on the card. "The original, not the one with these two nancy boys. Could they be more flaming?"

Drusilla pouted and took back the card. "I like Obi and Qui-Gon."

Snorting, Spike crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the mantle. "This party isn't going to happen, Drusilla. I'm putting my foot down."

She glanced down at his foot, then gave him a patronizing smile, and headed for the stairs, saying over her shoulder, "I'm going to dress. Can you check on the roast?"

"Roast? You cooked?" Totally baffled, Spike headed for the kitchen, not so much to check on the dinner, but to grab the handiest bottle of alcohol. Drusilla was getting sneaky in her old age. She'd planned all this behind his back, knowing that after the excruciatingly painful Thanksgiving, he'd find some way to stop her.

Why she suddenly wanted to be chummy with the slayer and her friends was beyond him.

Stepping into the kitchen, Spike sniffed appreciatively, then opened the large oven. A whole carcass was turning on the automatic spit.

"She killed one of my goats!" In horror, he slammed the door shut and ran to the backdoor, flinging it open and hitting the outside lights. Six goats bleated from the pen as he dashed into the cold night air. "Please don't let it be Heaven. Please don't let it be Heaven," he chanted. She was his favorite goat, had the sweetest blood, and the cutest snout...

An obstinate black and white goat with the incongruous pink ribbon around one horn bleated daringly at him, and he sighed in relief. Heaven was safe.

After spending some quality time with his goats, Spike finally sighed and girded his loins, then returned to the house. Drusilla sat at the kitchen table, painting her fingernails with dark red polish.

"Want me to do you, pet?" she asked, trying to blow on her fingernails, then frowning as no air came out.

"Um, no thanks, luv." Spike swallowed hard as she rose to her feet. His love was wearing the tightest, skimpiest black dress he'd ever seen. Where the dress ended, black fishnet stockings began, ending in patent leather pumps with spike heels. "Are you sure we have to have this party, Dru?" he finally got out, shifting slightly as his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

She gave him a hard look, then spun out of the room, grabbing a roll of scotch tape off the counter as she left. "I need you to help me hang the banner."

Tongue nearly hanging out of his head as he watched her ass wiggle, Spike followed docilely. As she climbed the step stool in front of the fireplace, he looked up her dress and nearly burst his zipper.

She wasn't wearing any panties...

...and she'd shaved herself bare.

Somehow, he managed to help her hang the banner which proclaimed 'Happy New Millennium', not bothering to argue with her that it wasn't the new millennium.

Just as they finished, the doorbell rang, and Drusilla jumped off the step stool to go answer it. Spike heard her squeal, and sighed that put-upon sigh again.

"Hello, Spike," Angel said as he entered the room, Cordelia trailing behind him, chatting with Drusilla about their skin tight dresses. From out of his coat, Angel drew a fifth of Scotch--a twenty year old single malt--and handed it to Spike. "Figured you'd need this before the night was out."

Spike grunted his thanks and went over to the bar. Opening the bottle, he poured two glasses nearly to the rim and drank both of them.

Angel smirked. "Very hospitable."

Spike flipped him off.

*****

Everyone got to the party by nine o'clock, just in time to catch Dick Clark's Time's Square deal.

"He's gotta be a demon, right?" Xander asked. "I mean, he's looked the same my whole life."

"He's scary," Buffy said with a shudder, from the couch where she sat comfortably with Riley's arm around her, letting him feed her bits of roast goat and new potatoes.

Everyone in the room gave her pointed looks.

"Hey. Hospitals and Dick Clark, they both give me the wiggins."

"And dummies," Willow added helpfully.

"Not so much anymore after Sid."

They did the countdown, which didn't really mean anything to them since it was only nine o'clock on the West Coast, then Drusilla put the stereo back on, and the eating and drinking resumed. Everyone commented on how good the roast was, and Drusilla beamed proudly, then brought out homemade apple pies, which were greedily devoured.

By ten thirty, most of the guests were tipsy, and Xander was attempting to play the Dukes of Hazzard pinball machine, finally giving up in disgust. "Oh, yeah, this is even more fun than playing Atari," he groused as he stumbled back to Anya's waiting arms.

She glowered at him. "Don't you dare get drunk, Xander Harris. I spent quite a bit of your paycheck on satin leopard spotted bed sheets for our New Year's fornication."

Oz handed him a beer, a slight look of sympathy on his face.

Willow was in animated discussion with Drusilla. She'd had a wine cooler and was feeling happy. "I just love the rainbow doormat. I used to collect stuff with rainbows on it. Where did you get it?"

"There's this lovely shop in the mall which sells all kinds of home products. Spike wanted something ugly made out of old tires." Drusilla shuddered delicately. "But, I wanted bright colors. That's a very pretty necklace," she said, changing the subject.

Willow's hand went to her neck and she fingered the pearls. "Oz gave it to me for Hanukkah."

"Tell me," Drusilla lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Have you ever...while he's been in wolf form?"

Willow turned bright red, but looked intrigued.

Spike, Riley and Buffy were sitting in front of the television watching a list of the millennium's stupidest inventions.

"I don't know. I kind of like chia pets. They're the only pets I manage to keep alive," Buffy said.

Riley squirmed on the couch, and Buffy stared at him. "You've been doing that ever since you sat down."

"The bedrooms are off-limits," Spike said flatly.

Reddening, Riley reached beneath the cushion, saying, "It's not that. I'm sitting on something." He pulled two items out. "Two somethings, apparently."

Buffy snorted. "Dru's toys?"

Spike sighed at the decapitated and empty kitten beanie baby, and the He-Man action figure.

"At least it's not a Pokemon," Buffy added. "Now THOSE are some demons that I'd love to kill."

At ten till midnight Angel, Spike and Oz each grabbed champagne bottles to open. Angel's cork went sailing and hit Cordelia in the head. Her eyes promised retribution, and Angel glared at Spike who was laughing.

"Now, see, if you hadn't spent one hundred years in a gutter, maybe you'd have learned the proper way to open these things," Spike lectured, then proceeded to spill half the bottle of fizz down his pants.

As his sire chuckled and Oz cracked a smile, Spike stomped into the laundry room for a dry pair of jeans. On his return to the main room, he found everyone with glasses of bubbly standing and sitting around the television. Everyone but Angel had on a silly hat. Angel's was dangling from one finger, as he obviously refused to muss his hair. Spike picked up a glass-- also avoiding the hats--and joined Drusilla, who leaned against him.

"This hasn't been terrible, has it?" she asked softly.

All his frustration and dismay vanished and he placed a kiss on her nose. "No, luv. It's been fine."

"Ten," Cordelia began the countdown, her arm wrapped through Angel's, her momentary anger forgotten.

"Nine," everyone continued, paired off with their lovers, both old and new.

As the countdown reached one and everyone shouted Happy New Year and tossed confetti, Spike turned Drusilla in his arms and kissed her with all the love and passion of one hundred and forty years.

Outside, there was a loud boom, and the lights and television went off. There was a muffled noise of someone stumbling into a table or chair, then Xander giggled drunkenly, "This flashlight doesn't work. Where are all the batteries when you need them?"

"That's not a flashlight you're holding, that's my breast," Anya replied caustically.

Everyone broke into laughter, and the electricity surged back on, while outside, one of the goats--not Heaven, thankfully--lay dead and smoldering, having chomped on an electrical line attached to the house.

End


End file.
